Baby It's Cold Outside
by Metropolis Kid
Summary: How does the Merc With a Mouth spend Christmas? Well there's some forth wall breaking, a few jokes, lots of killing... and just a little romance. Written as an answer to a request by Lion in the Land, but I hope the rest of you enjoy it too. One-shot


**Baby It's Cold Outside**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any material contained within this story, or even the song from which the title is taken. All copyrighted content remains the property of the person, people, or organization that holds the copyright. This story is solely for fun.

**AN:** This was written to thank Lion in the Land for her fantastic Hellsing one-shot "Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow". I asked what 'Christmas present' she would like in return, and out of all the possible stories with all the possible pairings in all the world... she asked for one about the Merc With a Mouth. O_o? Well, she asked for it... so here it is.

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**Time:** 11:00 PM, December 24, 2009.

**Location:** The Alpine Mountains – the subalpine zone.

**Mission:** Infiltrate secret HYDRA base and acquire experimental, prototype power cell for study and analysis

**Agent:** Deadpool – the Merc With a Mouth

"'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the copter, not a creature was stirring... save the blades and these four SHIELD clowns who hired me for this suicide mission," Deadpool commented as he jerked a thumb at three men in full body armor and one in a three-piece business suit.

"Now, Deadpool, are you sure you understand your mission objective? Perhaps we should go over your briefing again?" the man in the business suit commented in a tone which implied he didn't trust the nut-ball, wild-card in front of him to make a cheese sandwich, never mind pull off a highly classified OP.

The Merc With a Mouth just rolled his eyes as the nicely dressed man began to drone on about the mission again. He never understood why his handlers always seemed so… 'skittish' about trusting him to pull off his mission. Sure he was a certifiable psycho who "harbored delusions that he and everything else in the universe were actually fictitious creations designed to entertain beings who inhabited a parallel dimension", but there was a good reason he had a reputation as one of the world's best mercenaries. He may have been completely crazy... but he was also very, very good at his job.

Yet, his handlers always seemed to treat him with kid gloves, and he had come to accept this fact. So, he didn't bother protesting as the man in the charcoal business suite related the mission briefing again. Instead he laid back and pretended to listen, while secretly wondering what 'normal' people were doing Christmas Eve.

The kiddies were probably all bundled up, snug in their beds, as their parents got up and tip toed down the steps to add 'Santa's' gifts to those already under the tree. The merc sighed. It didn't happen often, but occasionally – just occasionally – he longed for a more normal life, like all those blind fools out there who had no idea they were really just bit characters in stories about superheroes and villains.

"Hey! I let the first one pass without comment, but that's two strikes. One more and I'm out of here... Don't you know _I'm_ suppose to be the one demolishing the forth wall, not you?!" Deadpool exclaimed tipping his head upwards as the SHIELD agents exchanged worried, side-ways glances. "Amateur," the merc scoffed as he lowered his head to look back at the others in the helicopter.

"Well, what are you all gapping at! Oh, I suppose you always get along with those unpublished morons who decide to... borrow your character to feature in one of their little fan fictions. Oh wait, that's right. No one ever does 'feature' you guys. And you know why? Just look at the way you dress – matching body armor, uninteresting three piece suits. You're all just a bunch of 'red shirts'."

The SHIELD agents all stared wide-eyed at the crazy man before them. This was who they were entrusting national security to? "Yes," the man in the suit replied.

"See? You don't even warrant a name," Deadpool interrupted.

The man ignored the merc's last comment and continued, "Ah, maybe we should send these other agents with you after all... as back up. You know, just in case."

"Er, don't bother. Like I said, you're all a bunch of red shirts – They'd be dead within five minutes."

The man in the suit opened his mouth to reply, but before he could the helicopter's intercom came on and the pilot informed them that they were over the insertion area. "Guess that's my cue to get going," Deadpool commented as he got up and moved to the helicopter's hatch.

"Wait, you're not even wearing a parachute!" one of the SHIELD agents exclaimed as the merc opened the hatch and jumped out. The agent was already rushing to the hatch, and he reached it just in time to see the free-falling Deadpool vanish in mid-air and reappear safely on the snow covered ground bellow.

White powder, kicked up by the distortion field of Deadpool's teleporter, swirled around the merc; and as he exhaled through the pliable fabric of his face mask, his breath was clearly visible. "Brrr, it's cold outside," he commented as he rose from a crouching position, drew his two katanas and advanced on the HYDRA base.

The resistance he met was rather pitiful-- just a bunch of poorly trained foot-soldiers who he figured even the Ninja Turtles could've handled without a problem. And SHIELD classified _this_ as a suicide mission? It was a joke. Since entering the base, the merc had yet to suffer a dozen enemy rounds piercing his skin. Truly a joke, and a rather funny one at that. So while advancing on a retreating, horror-faced, HYDRA soldier, the Merc laughed at his pitiful attempt to save himself.

"Oh, come on, You don't really think you're going to get away, do you? I'm the star of this fic, and you all are just fodder, thrown in to try to create some meager obstacles between me and the plot devise... er, I mean the 'experimental, prototype power cell'."

"Get away from me, you $%&# psycho!" the foot-soldiers screamed as he ran down a metal corridor and quickly ducked into a door at the far end.

Deadpool just chuckled as he followed at an almost casual pace. "You can run, but you can't hide. Olly olly oxen free! Come on out and let's... 'play'," the merc commented as he reached the door and roughly kicked it in. Then his mask elongated, as his jaw dropped, and his eyes widened.

"Oh shi-" the merc began as he saw an entire room full of foot-soldiers, their guns raised, waiting for him, and a chain-gun turret in the back of the large room. He didn't get to finish his statement; for, the trap sprung, everyone immediately opened fire.

The hail of large caliber round tore into the merc, shredding his flesh and turning his head and chest into bloodied, bullet ridden, mush. He fell back, to the floor, the cold, hard, unyielding steel floor. And then... he saw her face looking down at him.

Her pale features were accentuated by the raven curls framing her face and flowing down towards his own. Hers was the face of Death, but not the impersonal, fear-inducing, skeletal face which she showed to most. No, this face was soft, compassionate... loving. Her lip curled slightly, the beginning of a happy smile playing across her features. "Merry Christmas, Deadpool."

"It is now," the merc's spirit replied as it separated itself from his battered body and rose up to embrace Death herself.

"You know I was wondering if I was the reason you took on a *suicide* mission for Christmas," she commented coyly. "But, given the way you reacted to that ambush, I guess not," she continued with a half pout that the merc guessed was a faux one designed to be cute.

He decided to play along. "Oh, and I should put myself in constant danger and suffer the pain of having my skin torn from my bones... just so you'll pay me a visit?" he asked not a trace of anger or venom in his voice.

She nodded and grinned.

He laughed. "Yes, that does sound like something a 'nut' like me would do, doesn't it?" He bent down to plant a quick peck on her lips. "But that doesn't mean I have to enjoy... or look forward to the pain itself."

Death's smile faded as she felt a subtle tugging, an invisible force beginning to pull her away from the mercenary, and Deadpool noticed this. "What? Already?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Can't you stay, just a little bit longer? It's Christmas," he pleaded.

"I'm sorry, but my time is reserved for the dieing and the dead. And you're already regenerating."

"But-" The merc was cut off by Death leaping up and locking his lips in a deep kiss. They stayed like that for a moment, the smaller spirit form, hovering a half foot in the air as their bodies and mouths remained locked together. But slowly Death's form faded, and Deadpool was left with nothing but empty air. And then his own spirit was roughly jerked back to his recovering body.

The merc growled from somewhere deep in his throat as he rose to his feet before the startled, shocked faces of those HYDRA foot-soldiers who'd killed him only a few moments earlier. And then, before they had a chance to recover from the unexpected sight, he charged.

Gone was the levity he'd shown earlier, the humor. It had all vanished beneath a mask of pure rage as he cut, shot and teleported his way through the mob. He was not at all angered by the fact they'd 'killed' him, though that was what filled the last thoughts of many of the panicked mass. He was upset that they'd done such a lousy job of it.

He'd revived far too quickly, ripping the one he loved from his arms. And now, as he taught the insignificant red-shirts the error of their ways, he felt her presence in another way. She was there. With every head he cut off, every heart he pierced, every worthless worm he dispatched, she was there... to take the man's spirit.

He could not see her, but he knew she was there, watching him. And he wondered, as he often did, what she thought of his performance. Did she enjoy it? Were they partners in these moments, him separating the spirits from the flesh, and her taking them? Or did she resent the extra work he was making for her? Well, not really extra work, since they would all die sooner or later anyway, but he was certainly accelerating matters.

He often wondered such things, as he performed before her. But he knew better than to ask her about it. If it pleased her as it did him, then nothing was gained by discovering this. But if it did not, then his own enjoyment of this meager connection, they could share outside of his brief 'deaths', would be forever diminished by the knowledge that he was making her unhappy.

The last foot-soldier fell, and Deadpool continued on through the base. He retrieved the power cell that SHIELD so coveted and used the base's own communications equipment to radio for pick up. Then he waited, outside in the freezing cold, his bare chest and head stinging from the blistering wind, he waited for pickup. Was it just his imagination, or was it getting even colder outside?

A few minutes later the helicopter arrived. Deadpool gave the all clear and then it landed, the wind generated by the twirling blades kicking up even more snow which swirled and clung to the merc's body like a second skin.

The man in the business suit looked astounded as he opened the hatch and reached for the power cell. "Dear Lord! You look half dead!"

It was then that the Merc With a Mouth got an idea. He grinned back at the man. "You got the rest of my money!" he shouted to make himself heard over the whirling blades.

"Yeah! Right Here!" the man replied as he patted a leather briefcase.

"Good. Stow it somewhere safe until I come for it!"

"What are you talking about?! Aren't you coming with us?!"

"No, such a lovely day, thought I'd go for a walk!"

The man just stared for a moment, trying to figure out if the insane mercenary was joking or being serious. But then Deadpool turned and started to walk away, and he took that as his answer. The metal bird ascended back into the sky, as the half-clothed merc headed off in a random direction.

Surprisingly, freezing to death turned out to be a fairly peaceful way to go. Eventually, numbness overpowered the cold, and then a strange tiredness came upon him. He no longer felt any discomfort, but instead simply laid down and allowed himself to drift peacefully off to sleep.

Death's figure emerged from the twirling snow a few minutes later. "And what, I wonder," she began while tapping her foot, "could I _possibly_ be doing back here?"

The mercenary's spirit grinned. "Baby, it's cold outside," he quipped playfully, and they both got a chuckle out of the old, Christmas-time song, lyric.

"Merry Christmas, Love."

"Merry Christmas."

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Well, I hope you all enjoyed, especially you – Lila. ;) Have a Merry Christmas, and God bless us, everyone. :P

Metropolis Kid.


End file.
